Mother's Love
by algonquin paddler
Summary: The Winchester brothers investigate a bizarre act of violence in a small town only to discover the demon responsible left behind a witness ... the possessed's son. Please read and review, if I get enough feedback I will continue. Thanks!
1. Dragons and Demons

DISCLAIMER: I own no part of Supernatural whatsoever. If only, if only…

In a quiet neighbourhood in North Dakota, the moonlight reflected off the puddles gathering in the depressions in the paved street. The rain sounded musical as it ran down the insides of the tin eavestroughs to the ground below. It was a humid night, one of those nights when it seems the sound of everything is muted.

Inside one of the homes on Tealen Avenue, a soft light shone through the rain-spattered window of Charlie Sulden's bedroom. It illuminated the antique train set left on the floor, and the many drawings of misformed animals he had done that were hanging on the walls. On his bed beside the window, he sat curled in his yellow blanket, cuddling a worn brown bear as his mother read to him. His eyes were wide with surprise as Sophie turned the page to reveal a pop-up paper dragon. As he yawned, his mother smiled and closed the book.

"I think that's enough for today," she said as she tucked her sleepy son into bed.

"But Mom, we have to find out what happens to Princess Ophelia," Charlie said anxiously. He cuddled his bear closer to his chest as his mom came to sit on the bed and stroke his hair.

"Don't worry, I'm sure she will be rescued by the knight." She winked at Charlie, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and rose to leave the room.

As she switched off the light and was closing the door, Charlie called her.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Charlie?" She poked her head into the doorframe once again.

"Do you think there are things as scary as dragons in real-life?" he asked anxiously. His green eyes bored into hers, his brow frowning in await for her answer.

"No, Charlie, of course not," she said, smiling, as she closed the door. As she turned around to walk down the hallway, the whites of her eyes bled to become a cold, menacing jet-black.

"In fact," she whispered to herself, "there are things much worse than dragons in this world."


	2. Donuts and Double Homicide

I find that on occasion, I write better to music. So, this chapter is being written accompanied by crazy folk music. Please review and tell me what you think – I love reviews!

The hunt had gone well. Dean had rather enjoyed himself – who knew poltergeists could be so much fun? He had almost killed himself laughing when it stole Sam's shoe from his foot. Sam had no choice but to play cat-and-mouse with the damned thing until it threw his shoe onto the topmost rafter of the barn where it had taken up residence. Due to its unmistakable attraction to the handsome young man, Dean suggested Sam be used as bait to attract it, upon which he would take it down with a shot of rock salt laced with iron. The poltergeist also managed to steal Sam's shirt and grab him by the ear before Dean killed it. Needless to say, Dean had enjoyed teasing his younger brother about it all the way to the north border of Iowa, and Sam had neglected to speak a word since the end of the hunt.

They had stopped at a downtown café in St. Paul, Minnesota for an afternoon coffee break. Dean was at ease, spreading himself out in his chair on the patio. As usual, he watched the thirty-something women walk past in their summer dresses, winking and flirting with the occasional beauty. Sam, who was still ignoring Dean, had immersed himself in a local paper. Tired of the cold shoulder he had been receiving from his brother, Dean turned after saying goodbye to a lovely lady and leaned forward, his elbows on the table. His eyes were apologetic.

"Look, Sam, I'm sorry I laughed at that hunt back there."

Sam didn't move. Only the top of his head was visible behind the paper he was using as a shield, to avoid eye contact.

"You didn't deserve that," Dean continued, his eyes searching for a way to see his brother's face. "But you have to admit, it was pretty funny. For an expert," he said, the edges of his mouth turning up in a grin, "that was a pretty rookie move."

Sam tore the paper away from his face angrily.

"It was NOT a rookie move!" he said. His eyes blazed with anger. 'What else was I supposed to do, ask it nicely for my clothing back?"

"Hey, man, that might have worked." Dean took a sip of his coffee. "Just be glad it didn't steal your underwear."

Sam drenched Dean with the water from his lexan bottle. Dean laughed, knowing this was Sam's way of getting even and that they were on the same terms again. He combed his hand through his hair to respike it as Sam spread the paper he had been hiding behind on the table beside them.

"Take a look at this." He pointed at an obituary for a young woman, who looked to be about thirty-five. " 'Sophie Williams, passed suddenly on June 26, 2007, along with her husband Taylor. They will be sorely missed by – ' "

"Yeah, okay," Dean said, cutting him off. "So what's so important about this death?"

"Well, for starters, both the wife and husband died on the same day. Secondly, I've been doing a bit of research into police records-" he indicated his laptop on the café table, "and there was blood everywhere. Looks like a double homicide, but they haven't found any evidence."

"None?" Dean asked, truly interested. "Nothing at all?"

"No hairs, no fingerprints, no displaced dust, nothing." Sam said. He always loved doing the research for hunts because his brother depended on him for once. "And here's where it gets crazy. They did the autopsy, but they can't find any reason for him to have died." Sam counted them off on his fingers. "No puncture wounds, no bullet holes, he wasn't strangled, he had a clean bill of health, and his family's medical history was right as rain."

"Sounds suspicious." Dean clapped his hands together. "So, when do we get started?"


	3. Funerals and New Findings

The funeral reception had been going for awhile when Susan heard a knock on the door. She put down the tray of deli meats she had been carrying to answer it. Outside were two young handsome men, dressed in black suits and ties.

"Hello," she greeted them. "How can I help you?"

The shorter one spoke as the taller, darker stranger looked morosely at the ground.

"We, ah, we were friends of the family," he said quietly, as if he didn't want someone nearby to hear him. "We heard about what happened and we wanted to pay our respects."

"Oh," Susan said, her brow furrowing. "Did you get an invitation to the reception?"

"Aahh…" the shorter one began.

"No, we knew the family a long time ago," the tall man said quickly, not skipping a beat. "They've probably not mentioned us before, they knew our parents."

His honest brown eyes forced her to trust him. "Alright then, you may come in."

"Thank you." They entered the house, softly closing the door behind them.

"I thought we talked about the plan on the way over," Sam muttered through the corner of his mouth.

"We did?" said Dean. "Sorry, I must have been distracted by the beautiful women in this town. God, they're hot," he whispered as he turned to watch a woman in a black dress walk by.

"Dean, _upstairs brain_."

"What? Oh, right, sorry."

They entered the living room. It was tastefully decorated, with blue sheers and white cushy cloth couches. People dressed in black were standing around holding glasses of wine, chatting to others in that muted way that happens at funerals. Sam and Dean each took a glass from a platter and politely sat down in a corner by the front window, near an elderly lady with white hair and tight lips that appeared never to have let slip a secret in their lives.

However, first appearances were not accurate.

"Why, hello there," she said in a cheery voice. Her lips pulled up in a too-wide smile that reminded Dean of a denture commercial.

"Hey," Sam said. He smiled back. Dean had to admit, Sam could act pretty natural around these kinds of overfriendly people.

"How did you know Sophie and Taylor?" she asked. She leaned towards Sam, awaiting an answer.

"We were friends of the family a while back," he said easily. He leaned forward as she was doing, excluding Dean from the conversation. "Our parents were friends with them since grade school."

"Oh, yes, alright," the woman said, in a way that showed she didn't care about the answer. Dean hated people like this, who would ask you a question and then not want to hear what you have to say. Maybe that's why he hated the cops so much in interrogation.

"So, how old are you, fine gentleman?"

Sam turned bright red, and Dean saw this as his chance to jump in.

"Well, he's actually turning twenty-one this week, aren't ya, big guy?" He grinned and hit his brother on the back. Sam's grin had all but faded when Dean added, "Finally old enough to meet some girls other than the ones from chess club. Have some fun in the local bar… maybe even get lai-"

"_Dean_." Sam interrupted, giving his older brother a glare of utmost loathing. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, man, whatever." Dean stood as Sam led him out of the room, away from the wide-eyed woman staring after them, her jaw on the floor.

'Well, I never…"

Sam led Dean down the hall, just out of sight of the reception. Dean joked,

"Hey, dude, if we keep eloping into dark, deserted hallways, no wonder everyone thinks we're in love."

"Dean, shut up." Sam glared at his brother. "The real reason we're here is to take a look around, see if we can't find anything that might help with the hunt."

"And what are we hunting, exactly?" Dean asked as he followed Sam down the hallway. "Violent spirit, maybe? Or zombies again?" he shuddered at the thought. Dean absolutely hated zombies – they just wouldn't take the natural path and stay dead.

"I dunno," Sam said over his shoulder. "But this murder doesn't seem right to me somehow."

"Dude, it's not unnatural for a husband and wife to die on the same da-"

Thump.

Dean was interrupted by the noise of something falling onto the floor in the room behind the closed door they were approaching. Sam caught Dean's eye, and noiselessly they drew their handguns. With a nod from Dean, Sam quietly turned the door handle, and threw the door open with such force it banged back off the wall. They rushed into the room, and found something that neither of them had suspected.

A young boy, his eyes wide, was staring up at them from the carpet.


End file.
